The Life and Adventures of James P Beckwourth

by James P Beckwourth

  A little girl, who had often asked me to marry her, came to me one day, and with every importunity insisted on my accepting her as my wife. I said, “You are a very pretty girl, but you are but a child; when you are older I will talk to you about it.”

  But she was not to be put off. “You are a great brave,” she said, “and braves have a right to paint the faces of their wives when they have killed the enemies of the Crows. I am a little girl now, I know; but if I am your wife, you will paint my face when you return from the war, and I shall be proud that I am the wife of a great brave, and can rejoice with the other women whose faces are painted by their brave husbands. You will also give me fine things, fine clothes, and scarlet cloth; and I can make you pretty leggins and moccasins, and take care of your war-horses and war implements.”

  The little innocent used such powerful appeals that, notwithstanding I had already seven wives and a lodge for each, I told her she might be my wife. I took her to the lodge of one of my married sisters, told her that the little girl was my wife, and that she would make her a good wood-carrier, and that she must dress her up finely as became the spouse of a brave. My sister was much pleased, and cheerfully carried out all my requests. As I shall have occasion to speak of this little girl again, in connection with the medicine lodge, I shall say comparatively little of her at this time.

  I spent the summer very agreeably, being engaged most of the time in hunting buffalo and trapping beaver. I had now accumulated three full packs, worth in market three thousand dollars.

  One day I took a fancy to hunt mountain sheep, and for company took my little wife with me. She was particularly intelligent, and I found by her conversation that she surpassed my other wives in sense. She was full of talk, and asked all manner of questions concerning my travels among the great lodges and villages of the white man; if the white squaws were as pretty as herself; and an endless variety of questions. I felt greatly pleased with her piquant curiosity, and imparted much information to her. Fixing her deep black eyes full upon mine, she at length said, “I intend, some time in my life, to go into the medicine lodge.” I looked at her with astonishment. The dedication of a female to the service of the Great Spirit is a dangerous attempt. Like all forms of imposture, it requires a peculiar talent and fitness in the candidate who seeks to gain admission into the sacred lodge. The war-path secret is associated with the ministration, with many other fearful ceremonies. The woman who succeeds in her ambitious project is an honored participant in the sacred service of the Deity through life; but where one succeeds numbers fail, and the failure entails instant death. Three years subsequent to this conversation, I shall have to relate how my little wife, in the breathless silence of ten thousand warriors, passed the fiery ordeal in safety, and went triumphantly into the lodge of the Great Spirit.

  I had good success in hunting, killing a great number of sheep, and carried their skins with me to the village. On arriving, I called at the lodge of my allied brother, who insisted on my entering and taking a meal. I accepted his offer, while my little wife ran home to communicate my great success in hunting. Our meal consisted of strips of dried buffalo tongue, which, as the Indians did not half cook it, was a dish I never partook of. What was served me on this occasion, however, was well done, and I ate a hearty meal. Supper completed, I was praising the viands, and chanced to inquire what dish I had been eating. The woman replied that it was tongue, and expressed by her looks that I must have known what it was. My friend, knowing that I had departed from my rule, inferred that I had infringed my medicine, and he started up in horror, shouting, “Tongue! tongue! you have ruined his medicine! should our hero be slain in battle, you are a lost woman.”

  The poor woman was half dead with fear, her features expressing the utmost horror.

  I issued from the lodge, bellowing in imitation of the buffalo, protruding my tongue, and pawing up the ground like a bear in fury. This was in order to remove the spell that had settled over me, and recover the strength of my medicine. I recovered at length, and proceeded toward my lodge, commiserated by a large crowd, who all deplored the taking of the food as a lamentable accident.

  That same evening the village was notified by the crier that on the following day there would be a surround, and all were summoned to attend. I accompanied the party, and the surround was made, several hundred buffaloes being inclosed . On charging among them to dispatch them, we discovered seven Black Foot Indians, who, finding retreat cut off from them, had hastily provided themselves with a sand fort. I struck one of the victims with a willow I had in my hand, and retired thereupon, declaring I had wounded the first enemy. This, I believe I have before mentioned, is a greater honor than to slay any number in battle. I had retired to a short distance, and was standing looking at the fight, when a bullet, discharged from the fort, struck the dagger in my belt, and laid me breathless on the ground. Recovering immediately, I arose, and found myself bleeding at the mouth. Imagining the ball had penetrated some vital place, I gave myself up for dead. I was carried to the village by scores of warriors, who, with me, supposed my wound to be mortal, and were already deploring their warrior’s fall. The medicine men surrounded me, and searched for my wound; but, behold! there was only a small discoloration to be seen; the skin was not perforated. The ball was afterward found where I fell, flattened as if struck with a hammer. It was then declared that I would recover. The enemy’s bullets flattened in contact with my person — my medicine was infallible — I was impenetrable to wound! I did not afford them any light on the matter.

  As soon as the poor woman who had entertained me at supper heard that I was wounded, she left for another village, and was not seen again for six months. Supposing herself to have been instrumental in destroying my medicine, and knowing that, if I died, her life would pay the forfeit of her carelessness, she did not dare to return. She chanced to see me unharmed at the village where she had taken refuge, and then she knew her life was redeemed.

  While the doctor and medicine men were going through their spells and incantations previous to uncovering my wound, my relatives, in their solicitude for my life, offered profuse rewards if they would save me. Some offered twenty horses, some fifty, some more, in proportion as their wealth or liberality prompted. The doctors ransomed my life, and they received over five hundred horses for their achievement.

  One day a slight dispute arose between one of the braves and myself about some trivial matter, and as both of us were equally obstinate in maintaining our views, we both became angry. My disputant remarked with great superciliousness, “Ugh! you pretend to be a brave, but you are no brave.”

  We drew our battle-axes at the same instant, and rushed at each other, but before either had an opportunity to strike, the pipe was thrust between us, compelling us to desist, to disobey which is instant death. This is the duty of certain Indians, who occupy the position of policemen in a city. They then said to my antagonist, “You said that ‘ Big Bowl’ was no brave. You lied; we all know that he is brave; our enemies can testify to it, and you dare not deny it any more. Hereafter, if you wish to show which is the greatest brave, wait until you meet the enemy, then we can decide; but never again attempt to take each other’s lives.”

  This interference procured peace. It was not long, however, before we both had a good opportunity to determine the question of our valor. A small party of thirty warriors was embodied, myself and my antagonist being of the number. After a short march we fell in with a war-party of eighteen Cheyennes, who, notwithstanding the disparity of numbers, accepted battle, well knowing that escape was impossible. I pointed out one of the enemy (who I could see by his dress and the peculiarity of his hair was a chief). “You see him?” I said. “Well, we can decide which is the best man now. You charge directly against him by my side.”

  This he readily assented to, but still I could detect in his countenance an expression which I deciphered, “I would rather not.” I saw the Indian we were about to attack open the pan of his gun, and give it a s
light tap with his hand to render its discharge certain. He presented his piece, and took the most deliberate aim as we advanced side by side to the attack. The death of one of us seemed inevitable, and I did not like the feeling of suspense. A few spurrings of our chargers, and we were upon him. I seized the muzzle of his gun at the very instant that it exploded, and cut him down with the battle-axe in my right hand. My left cheek was filled with the powder from the discharge, the stains of which remain to this day. My rival did not even strike at the Indian I had killed.

  He then said to me, “You are truly a great warrior and a great brave; I was wrong in saying what I did. We are now good friends.”

  Our few enemies were quickly exterminated, the loss on our side being four wounded, including my powder-wound. My fame was still farther celebrated, for I had again struck down the first man, who was a great chief, and had actually charged up to the muzzle of his gun, what few Indians have the stamina to do. On our return with the spoils of victory we were warmly congratulated by the tribe, and I was still farther ennobled by the additional name of Bull’s Robe, conferred on me by my father.

  It was now the fall of the year. I had been a Crow for many moons. It was time to repair to the trading post to obtain what articles we needed. I determined to accompany the party, and at least attend to the sale of my own effects. What peltry I had was worth three thousand dollars in St. Louis, and I was solicitous to obtain something like an equivalent in exchange for it.

  We proceeded to Fort Clarke, on the Missouri. I waited until the Indians had nearly completed their exchanges, speaking nothing but Crow language, dressed like a Crow, my hair as long as a Crow’s, and myself as black as a crow. No one at the post doubted my being a Crow. Toward the conclusion of the business, one of my tribe inquired in his own language for “be-has-i-pe-hish-a.” The clerk could not understand his want, and there was none of the article in sight for the Indian to point out. He at length called Kipp to see if he could divine the Indian’s meaning.

  I then said in English, “Gentlemen, that Indian wants scarlet cloth.”

  If a bomb-shell had exploded in the fort they could not have been more astonished.

  “Ah,” said one of them, “you speak English! Where did you learn it?”

  “With the white man.”

  “How long were you with the whites?”

  “More than twenty years.”

  “Where did you live with them?”

  “In St. Louis.”

  “In St. Louis! in St. Louis! You have lived twenty years in St. Louis!”

  Then they scanned me closely from head to foot, and Kipp said, “If you have lived twenty years in St. Louis, I’ll swear you are no Crow.”

  “No, I am not.”

  “Then what may be your name?”

  “My name in English is James Beckwourth.”

  “Good heavens! why I have heard your name mentioned a thousand times. You were supposed dead, and were so reported by Captain Sublet.”

  “I am not dead, as you see; I still move and breathe.”

  “This explains the mystery,” he added, turning to the clerk, “of those beaver-skins being marked ‘J. B.’ Well, well! if you are not a strange mortal!”

  All this conversation was unintelligible to my Crow brethren, who were evidently proud to see a Crow talk, so fluently to the white man.

  “Now,” I said, “I have seen you transact your business without interposing with a word. You have cleared two or three thousand per cent of your exchanges. I do not grudge it you. Were I in your place I should do the same. But I want a little more liberal treatment. I have toiled hard for what I have obtained, and I want the worth of my earnings.”

  I set my own price upon my property, and, to the great astonishment of my Indian brethren, I returned with as large a bale of goods as theirs would all together amount to. But, as I have said, an Indian is in no wise envious, and, instead of considering themselves unfairly used, they rejoiced at the white man’s profusion to me, and supposed the overplus he had given me was an indemnity for the captivity they had held me in.

  On our return I made various presents to all my wives, some of whom I did not see for months together, and to many other relatives. I had still a good stock to trade upon, and could exchange with my brethren at any rate I offered. They placed implicit confidence in my integrity, and a beaver-skin exchanged with me for one plug of tobacco contented them better than to have exchanged it for two with the white man.

  I had the fairest opportunity for the acquisition of an immense fortune that ever was placed in man’s way. By saying one word to the tribe I could have kept the white trader forever out of their territory, and thus have gained the monopoly of the trade of the entire nation for any term of years. That I am not now in possession of a fortune equal to that of an Astor or a Girard is solely the fault of my own indolence, and I do not to this moment see how I came to neglect the golden opportunity.

  While returning from the trading-post, we fell in with a party of about two hundred and fifty Cheyenne warriors, to oppose whom we numbered but two hundred warriors, besides being encumbered with a still greater number of women. As good fortune would have it, they attacked us in the daytime, while we were moving; whereas, had they but waited till we were encamped, and our horses turned out, I do not see how we could have escaped defeat. In traveling, every warrior led his war-horse by his side, with lance and shield attached to the saddle.

  The enemy was first seen by one of our scouts at some little distance from the main body. On seeing they were discovered, they gave chase to him, and continued on until they came upon our whole party. Every man transferred himself to his war-horse, and was instantly ready to receive them. They advanced upon our line, were received without wavering, and finally driven back. It was now our turn to attack. We charged furiously with our whole force, completely sweeping everything from before us, and killing or disabling at least fifty of the enemy. They rallied and returned, but the reception they met with soon put them to rout, and they fled precipitately into the timber, where we did not care to follow them.

  Our loss was severe: nine warriors killed and thirteen wounded, including myself, who had received an arrow in the head — not so serious, however, as to prevent me doing duty. We also lost one pack-horse, laden with goods, but no scalps. We took eleven scalps upon the field, and the Cheyennes afterward confessed to the loss of fifty-six warriors. When we lost a horse in the action, the women would immediately supply its place with a fresh one. We were nearly two hundred miles from home, and we carried our dead all the way thither.

  On arriving at home, I found my father greatly irritated. He had lost two hundred and fifty head of horses from his own herd, stolen by the Black Feet, who had raised a general contribution from the whole village. His voice was still for war, and he insisted on giving immediate chase. I dissuaded him from his intention, representing to him his advanced years, and promising to go myself and obtain satisfaction for his losses. He reluctantly consented to this arrangement; but, four or five days after my departure on the errand, his medicine became so strong that he started off with a party, taking an opposite direction to the one I had gone on. My party consisted of two hundred and twenty good warriors, and my course lay for the head-waters of the Arkansas, in the Arrap-a-ho country.

  We fell in with no enemies on our way until we arrived at a village which contained upward of one hundred lodges. We formed our plans for assaulting the place the next day, when we discovered four white men, whom we surrounded. The poor fellows thought their last day was come, and I was amused to overhear their conversation.

  “They will surely kill us all,” said one.

  “In what manner will they kill us?” asked another.

  “They may burn us,” suggested a third.

  Then they communed among themselves, little thinking there was one overhearing them who sympathized with every apprehension they expressed.

  They summed up their consultation by one saying, “If t
hey attempt to kill us, let us use our knives to the best advantage, and sell our lives as dearly as possible.”

  “Gentlemen,” said I, “I will spare you that trouble.”

  “Great God!” they exclaimed, “Mr. Beckwourth, is that you?”

  “Yes,” I replied, “that is my name. You are perfectly safe, but you must not leave our camp till tomorrow.”

  “For what reason?” they inquired.

  “Because there is a village close by which we mean to assault at daybreak, and we do not wish our design to be known.”

  “Oh,” said they, “we should not communicate your designs, and we did not even know of the village.”

  They then poured out before me a whole sea of misfortunes. They had been trapping — had met with very good success; the Indians had stolen their horses; in attempting to cross the river by means of a badly-constructed raft, the raft had fallen to pieces, and they had lost everything — peltry, guns, and ammunition. They were now making their way to New Mexico, with nothing to eat and no gun to kill game with. They were among Indians, and were two or three hundred miles from the nearest settlements of New Mexico. I entertained them well while they stayed, and, after our assault in the morning, I gave them two guns and twenty rounds of ammunition, and counseled them to take advantage of the surprise of the Indians to make good their escape. One of the four afterward informed me that they reached the settlements in safety, having killed a buffalo and a deer on the way.

  We made the assault as appointed. We were mounted on horses we had taken from the village during the night, as Indians go on horse-stealing expeditions on foot. I divided my force into two bodies, giving my principal scout the command of one. I gave orders to run off their horses without risking a battle, if no opposition were offered; but, if they showed fight, to kill whatever came in their way. The Arrap-a-hos are very poor warriors, but on this occasion they defended themselves with commendable zeal and bravery. We were, however, compelled to kill fourteen of them, for our own security, before we could get their horses well started. On our side we had four wounded; and if they had not delayed to scalp the fallen Indians, that might have been avoided.